


Actors on/off set

by Zwiezraczek



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Actor's lives, Actors, Alternate Universe - Actors, Chris is a cute dork, Friendship, JJ is shy, Leo is bilingual and it's not a phase, Multi, Nikiforov will be the popular actor, Otabeki is (too) confident, Viktor is THE actor, Yuri is a sunshine, Yuri on Ice is a new show, Yuuri is sass, relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-07
Updated: 2018-01-28
Packaged: 2019-03-01 19:13:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13301415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zwiezraczek/pseuds/Zwiezraczek
Summary: Have you ever wondered what it would have be if Yuri on Ice was a show, with real actors, having another life? Keep reading then...





	1. or the begining

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by [Barechu works](http://barechu.tumblr.com/), I decided to write this AU. I mean, I have done something similar to this in another fandom, and now that I see all these Actors AU... I was so inspired that I wanted to do mine.  
> I hope you will enjoy it!
> 
> Ps: Still sorry for grammar errors!

\- JJ, I swear to God I'll kill you as soon as I will catch you; the blond yelled running after his friend laughing louder that he imagined, he should have never tried to eat all his Russian snacks, but it tempted him so much and he couldn't resist to the fabulous scent of these pastries.

Two tornados on the set, one less big than the other but as destructive as the other one; a man burst into laughter as soon as he saw them running for their lives -one for his own, the other for his pastries-, he shook his head slightly and sighted before looking again at the script he had in his hands.

On the other side, in the wardrobes a girl chatted with a boy, redhead and a brunet, planning their evil come-back to annoy one of they “enemies” -because hey, he was a real bastard!-, crossing techniques on their notebook, the girl laid on the couch with her elbow on the armrest and the other hand occupied by a pen that she munched thoughtfully, the other had a guitar in his arms, his hand on the strings, scratching them slowly, some melody appeared as if he was summoning the devil himself to help them; they had no clue about what they could do.

Two salt mines, two sassy grown boys with such a good, precious man. Sitting on chairs, rehearsing some parts they had to play, somehow helping the curled blonde to get his character right, to catch his spontaneous side, and all these allusions they mastered in; he wasn't sure about what they were saying to him, but at least he tried to get them right and to listen to their advices -he often asked himself why he got casted as him, they had nothing in common, at least he felt it that way; maybe he was wrong...-; and they listened to him, talking about his experience in Europe, from this country free from war for centuries, about their mountains and listening to him speaking with the _right_ French accent -the Canadian had the accent that they could never have imagine, really... Different-.

 

_Few years ago, Toronto, Canada_

How did he manage to still study Russian with his grades? It remained a mystery that even God never resolved; now he was here, standing in the hallway after classes with his teacher Mrs Ivanova -the old lady that you could be sure had cookies in her bag, ready to whip them out to a student crying because he had a bad day, with her pearl necklace and bouncing white hair, a perm, JJ could bet on it- waiting for this student, the freshman who moved to Canada a week ago and joined this high school; obviously JJ had to be his tutor, no other solution, “That will help you to improve your skills, Jean-Jacques” she said, yeah I know I have no skills and you are desperate about my accent Ma'm, I get it. He had the red pull over he loved, - the one with “Canada” flocked on his back-, his bag was leaning on his shoulder as he waited with the elder lady; finally -he had no time to waste, he had rehearsals!- he saw a blond head arriving, flying in the hallway, out of breath and asking excuses about his late in a rough English, accentuated by his panting. She told him something in Russian -about “Jean-Jacques”, and these were the only words he could catch in the discussion; false he also heard that they had to hurry because of him-, finally she looked at the huge student having hands in his pockets, and told him to take the blond with him, then she just left, leaving the two men together, two strangers in a hallway looking at each other. He had emerald eyes, a bright smile all over his face, holding out his hand to JJ.

\- George, but my friends call me Yuri; he introduced himself, with a voice, in a leaking English because of his accent. Nice to meet you.

\- Jean-Jacques, but my friends call me JJ; he answered in Russian, with the best accent he could, shaking the blonde's hand as he burst into laughter hearing his accent, it appeared as an honest laugh, without wanting to be mean. Now just please, I'm late for rehearsals, can we just go; he spoke really fast, switching into English, in a rush, chewing his words; Yuri looked at him and laughed again, but this time, confused.

\- I got just that you are in a hurry, still don't know for what but still, let's go so; he had a sunny smile, comforting and friendly as well. Lead the way then!

 

It was three months since Yuri arrived into JJ's life, this little dude became his friend really quickly -thanks to Mrs Ivanova who always made them sit together in her classes; Yuri was a freshman but still, he had great Russian skills, surprising right? So he just stayed with the whole Russian class, composed of different ages, levels and individuals- and JJ just felt amazed by his acting skills; in fact the little Russian had already played minor roles in Russian tv shows -but Yuri never wanted to say witch ones-, and now his parents move here, in Canada, he saw the opportunity to become an actor, something JJ always wanted since theatre saved him from shyness and his biggest insecurities. The turning point in their relationship was called Shakespeare. Once Yuri's English get better, JJ's theatre professor offered him a role he couldn't refuse: Romeo, a smile appeared on his soft and brilliant face, he accepted the role; the next day JJ found out that he had to play Juliet. They looked at each other, in considerable detail, glared at each other, walking around each other as the whole company prayed God to avoid another fight; Yuri suddenly kneeled in front of JJ, looking right in his gleaming eyes, a hand on his heart, reaching out the other, and with his perfect Russian accent stared to recite.

\- Just say you love me, and I'll never be Romeo again; his eyes were gemstones, verdant ones, he had love in his eyes, the boy had a talent, and JJ knew that.

\- Who are you, he demanded, stepping back apprehensively. Why do you hide in the darkness and listen to my private thoughts?

\- I don't know how to tell you who I am by telling you a name, he responded with a heartache, a brilliant regret as he lowered his head. I hate my name, dear saint, because my name is your enemy...

\- Aren't you Romeo? Aren't you a Montague, he asked as he approached, kneeling in front of him, taking his face in his hands, looking at him with amazement, touching his blonde hair, as if he just found him again.

Applauses. Nobody expected that. So Yuri smiled at JJ, with a friendly smile, and burst into laughter, an angelic and exquisite laughter followed by JJ's one; and the two of them were laughing, together. This is how they became friends, Romeo and Juliet, star-crossed friends, never meant to be; however fate has its rules, and nobody can challenge the fate.

 


	2. or the rehearsal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope being able to upadate this every week, another challenge I'm giving myself for this year haha ^^  
> If there is some grammar errors tell me, I won't bite but I'll be grateful and seding flowers

   The room was full, a circle of people occupied all the space; some of them were reading, others chatting, people coming in and out, trying to focus on what they had to do, on what they all came forward: the first lecture of the script. Hands shaking, nervous laughter, hands in the jungle of their hair, someone sneezed provoking a laugh from the blond's mouth and a tap on his shoulder from the brunet next to him; a guy came in, phone in his hand, speaking Spanish, just about to shout to somebody through his phone before hanging up and smiling to all of them, all silent now, eyes clinging to him while he took a place near the director who was still having a chat with the most popular actor on the show. Completed circle, the infinity had begun. She spoke for a moment, about all their adventure, about all they had to experience and all they will live, together, as a _team_ ; a scary and beautiful word sounding as a sentence and for others being a blessing, an angel from the sky to illuminate their cold nights. They heard names, places, images and all brought something back to everyone; a name, a place, a moment of their life. Something big had to born, born to make history.

Feeling alone, all by himself but not a _débutant_ and he knew it, he sat on the purple sofa, so soft, wearing his round shiny glasses on his nose; his beard has remained unshaven for few days -he wanted to embrace the character, fully, as always-, wearing a night turtle-neck, crossing his long and muscular legs, a long smoky trench coat on his lap with the bunch of pages he was given before entering here, he began to read again, all these lines he already knew -more or less-, rising his eyes behind his glasses from time to time to look at all these people he had to play with. He imagined Giacometi being this social butterfly he couldn't be, he never felt able to be, at least he had to play it without disappointing the woman who gave him his chance, a role in her production, a role that she knew suited him perfectly, and it was not a minor production, some rumors were talking about Viktor -this Russian star, their biggest pride, you know, the one with silver hair and amazing blue eyes-, and if Vktor was part of it, everything had to be perfect. He sighted again, rolling up his sleeves, as he looked at the man that sat on the seat next to him, he gave him this insecure look he always had while looking at someone new, corners of his mouth moving slowly up as if he wanted to smile but something forbade him to, his hand patting the pages of his script; a blond boy showed up, just behind the brunet to who Chris tried to smile, with this curious look of an afraid kitten, about to purr. They were sitting too close to be strangers for each other, the younger one had his hand on the other's papers, the delicate hand stopped its movements when looking at Chris, and his eyes began to look with caution at him, he felt his cheeks blushing -somebody was looking at him, for God's sake-; offering finally his hand, a graceful smile on the face, he leant on the older's lap.

\- I'm George, but please call me Yuri, he introduced himself with a dulcet voice, caressing his ears as he offered his hand back.

\- Chris, nice to meet you Yuri; he couldn't help himself, but he smiled a little seeing the blond making the first move, that he would have never done.

\- And he's Jean-Jacques, JJ for friends, he pursued showing the one on who he lent over with his green eyes. JJ's shorter, call him JJ; JJ remained silent as he looked at him, smiling now and offering him his hand too.

\- French, Chris asked switching hand now, and giving his to he brunet.

\- Canadian, from _Québec_ , but yes, I speak French, this answer sounded usual, as if it remained a routine since his childhood.

\- _Formidable, je suis suisse_ , Chris said, smiling at him: finally he met a person speaking French in this industry – Canada still was this bilingual country, but still English remained the principal language-.

\- _Enchanté alors_ , JJ answered, surprised, amused, smiling at him now.

\- And I'm as lost as always when you find a French speaker, Yuri grumbled with a little smile on his face, joking with them.

Finally, maybe this adventure would not be so annoying after all.

   One leg folded under her butt, her thumb on her red lips, tooth under her nail, reading the script on her lap, her long blonde hair falling on her shoulders, Mila seemed dead serious, and she felt this way; she never had been part of such a huge project, feeling like the freshman in high school, trying to study but knowing that she would just have a good start, and everything going worse and worse then -as her grades did in high school-. Looking like a beautiful angel, with her oceanic eyes running through the pages, trying to get the feeling again, to feel as Babicheva had to; she felt like her, but better, her attitude wasn't even the half of how Mila could be, that's why she had so much fun creating Babicheva's story, imagining her growing up like her, struggling like her younger, falling in love and being dumped away, trusting sometimes the bad person, being afraid, having this emo phase -she once dyed her hair black, just for fun, but her mother didn't found it fun at all, cutting her hair, lesson learned Mila-, and finally blossoming at eighteen, finally finding her way to be who she always wanted to be; she was born to embody Babicheva. She started looking at the whole crew, no much women, she had to be strong here to deserve her place, and she was not even speaking about the guy sitting at the other side of the room, glasses on his gelled hair, reading with passion the script, she felt curious about who he embodied; let's see... Maybe the Korean skater, or the Italian one -oh no! I know!- the Canadian, the silly one; it seemed all obvious with these haughty airs, she could even imagine him talking with great emphasis, gesticulating, and having a stupid laugh. Yeah, she believed she was right. She rose her head when a brunet came in the room, speaking fast, “r” roller coasters in every word he said, the accent only a Hispanic guy had in all the movies she had seen before, he got everybody's attention, especially hers when he sat next to her, all eyes on him, a smile on his face as if everything that happened was usual; they quickly switched to another conversation, about their roles and all they had to do, to be, to feel. She listened carefully to every word, like an exemplar student as the director asked finally to present themselves, with a smile on her gentle face. The tour began, the Chinese girl started, Isabella she said, she looked very pretty with her short hair and dark lipstick -and Mila had to know from where she got it-, carrying on with other boys, women, men until the turn of the haughty came.

\- I assume everybody is more or less aware of who I am, the gelled one said -she had to admit he had a particular, deep voice, really pleasant to hear-.

\- _O_ _, мой бог_ _,_ she said as everybody looked at her while she sat comfortably on the couch. We're not all international stars as the Sir is, but I beg you pardon because I don't know who you are; she had this ironical tone she always had while answering to somebody like him, half smiling.

\- I am Otabek, and I'm going to portray Altin, I hope now it's clear for everyone; he answered looking her right in the eye, stoic face.

\- So much better, I'm Mila by the way if _Majesty_ was wondering, her blonde locks moving delicately on her shoulders, while blowing a lock from her face.

\- _Очень приятно_ , he said looking at her, now smiling a lot, defiantly waiting for her next moove -that didn't happened, she wanted to tease him more, later-.

And the tour continued, her turn came, her neighbour was Enrique Iglesias' borther, the one speaking Spanish right; she had a crush on her brother, she had to confess that she had posters of him in her room, she sang his songs sometimes never getting a clue about what he was saying -at least it sounded sexy-; and when they had a break, she turned her face to the young Iglesias, smiling at him, offering her hand. He smiled back.

\- Nice job for putting the Kazakh rising star at his place girl, he told her, whispering.

\- Rising star?

\- Yeah, Disney shit, played some dark/emo/bad boy once, having a lot of fangirls in his country; the poor thing, here he's unknown.

\- Poor thing, she repeated as he gave her his hand. But in another way, I don't care.

\- But you have to admit he's hella fine.

\- You got a point here, Iglesias.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you liked it, leave a comment, a kudo and if you want you can find me on [Tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/)


	3. or the duo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, this chapter is the shortest I've written for this AU, but still I prefer exposing characters little by little and then just going through adventures haha

   They began their rehearsals, slowly, every word's note slipping delicately from their mouths, some of them were puffing, discovering their matching actors, the ones they had to play with for the most of the time; kind of stressful. The blonde was smiling to the other blond, winking at him because she knew that she had to be friends with the little Russian, her fellow countryman, the little Plisetsky she adored when she saw his name in the script; some cheeks flushed like reddish petals looking at their mate for the season, the Swiss man could barely breathe knowing that his favourite actor had to play with him, -his best friend!- butterflies in his stomach, seeing one of his European idols -his role in _Brother Conflict_! The show, neither good nor bad, but this character lightened the whole crazy thing and partly for this Chris never felt ashamed for watching the show- right here, in front of his green pupils, smiling to him while saying his lines, heaven in hiding.

 

   His body crossed by a soft chill while sitting in one of the comfy chairs, stripped cushions behind his back, one hand on his lap and the other filled with papers, lines he had to practice, that ha practised a lot before, Nikiforov, the greatest character he had ever to play; he reminded him of himself, his whole storyline came up to his own life, a young Russian talent, playing in shows that every Russian post USSR knew, the little angel having silver hair falling on his shoulders, the androgynous teenager on the screen with his heart shaped mouth, smiling brightly, laughing and sharing all his passion with everybody. But once he became the apple of Russia's eye, he could not flee this role, this little boy he used to be, so he tried to surprise all of them once more, pushing his limits every time, never enough, always the same; here he saw the last opportunity to show them he had talent, that the boy he used to be was gone, with flower crowns, with petals: away, end of the story. When his manager tried to throw out the script, Viktor ran to the bin, looking for the precious object -in part because he saw a rainbow flag under the title, and he had to read this perfect script because of it- and put in his silver head that Nikiforov had to be portrayed by him, first because of mother Russia, second because Nikiforov felt like home to him, and third because he gave no fuck about all of this, and he could do anything he wanted to. When he saw all the cast, he felt happy to see new faces -the blonde Russian sitting like a teenager on the couch, the two shy men in the corner-, less known faces -like the Kazakh, he heard of him, teenager star, a kind of talent in portraying bad boys, the stoic face helped a lot; or the Japanese model, he saw him on few covers, he had an athlete's body somehow, well work needs; and the Swiss, a minor role in a small European show, few minutes on screen, still captivating eyes, maybe a little bit rigid, but nothing to worry about- and all these people: being part of a new, stimulating experience could only bring benefits to all of them. The break came to an end, and he said after clearing his throat.

\- Well, all eyes on him, some of them admiring, some of them respectful; I just want to say that I'm really happy to be part of this show, and seeing new talents here, because I have no doubts that she choose bad actors, he pursued winking at the director who burst into a soft laughter. And the most important in this industry, I'm talking like an old man but whatever, never do something unless you find it fun, unless it brings you some joy because if it doesn't you'll just end as nobody, as one between so many other talents and I believe that you are not just “anybody” but that you are “somebody”.

\- Pep talk, a good one by the way; the Japanese said, clapping softly as he looked his right in the eye. Just hoping that's not another bullshit that you say to all of your different crews in the past.

\- Do I look like recycling my pep talks, Viktor asked, half smiling and feeling the look of the curled blond on him and the Japanese -Yuuri was his name-.

\- Somehow, jut asking; his Japanese accent, rolling his eyes as he smiled back to Viktor sitting on one of the couch near to him.

\- Yeah, recycled pep talk, he finally confessed ironically smiling.

 

   Yuuri smiled back, rolling his eyes, Viktor looked less scaring in real for sure, he looked handsomer though, and his sliver hair had the shine he imagined during his childhood; his answer made him laugh, like a chirrup, soft and sweet as he looked him right in the eyes across the room: delightful. Yuuri always has been a model, since childhood he learnt to be beautiful, tofeel beautiful, to show people beauty as his whole family did; all he had to do was just looking right in the eye of the camera, a deep look, no smile, no laughter, nothing else just him and his look, trapped in a golden cage. The only freedom he had growing up was his mind, everything he had inside his head represented everything to him, his body was just beautiful receptacle for his soul and nobody could take his soul out of it. He liked to party, on his own rules, until the sunrise, singing to depressing songs yet with this rousing rhythm; younger he looked at Viktor as his role model, the man who made himself, who worked hard to become who he became and him, little Yuuri, spoiled child from a rich family that allowed him to purchase his “dream” -or his mother's, or father's, he never really knew- but he never had to complain about his life, fun for the most of the time, perfect for everybody. Now he had to portray the man -the boy- who had to work all by himself, to struggle alone without annoying his family with his own doubts, a hesitant one, a lost one: everything Yuuri wasn't; his life already written in the stars, he knew where he was going, how everything would end if he continued on this road. Stupid life, and the “Yup” on his middle finger confirmed it. It didn't seem new to him, all these lights, the cameras, the rehearsals, the others, the competition between everybody to finally make a breakthrough, but maybe here it was something more than that, maybe here it was more about creating something _together_ and to show it on screen. And maybe Yuuri liked this idea, maybe he finally found something for himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you liked it, leave a comment, a kudo and if you want you can find me on [Tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/)


	4. or the strangers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The last chapter of presentation I guess, the two last characters on which I will focus in this AU

All leaving the room for the first time, all together, a kind of ceremonial moment that nobody would forget quickly. A coat on her shoulders, a smile on his face, a laugh coming from the blond's lips, sun glasses ending up on his nose to protect his dark eyes from Toronto's sun, a little smile drawn on another one's face, fingers typing on the keyboard. The end of the day was freezing, mist coming from red lips, smoke from other's as the sun sunk into the coral sky, between large clouds. First day after rehearsals. Now, it would be more intense for all of them, the real adventure had begun.

 

   A lock of his hair behind his ear, brown eyes illuminated by the blue light of his phone, fingers running on the screen; he answered to his agent briefly. _“T'was okay. Seems fun. I hope they pay well.”_ Rising his eyes, he saw Mila standing in front of him, a hand on her right hip as if she waited for him. Her arctic eyes looking at him, a smile on her face, mouth parted letting some mist escape from her crimson lips. She looked like a little angel, surrounded by an heavenly lightning, moving from blue to coral at some places. He smiled back, and she came closer.

\- Hey Leo, what are you doing tonight, she asked joyfully to swing from one foot to the other.

If what you want is an invitation to a private event, _que ni se te ocurra*_.

\- Nothing, unless my _viejo_ calls me, he answered putting his phone in his jacket's pocket. Why?

\- Great, near here there is a bar. I thought it could be fun to hang out, I mean if it doesn't bother you or something.

\- That's fine, why decline such a good offer, he wandered in a loud voice, smiling at her. Always in game to drink something!

\- We gonna be friends quickly then; she offered him her arm, as if she was an old friend on fim, he didn't declined, thinking about how spontaneous she was, half smiling.

He felt smaller for once, she really was a giant. They walked for a while, in a kind of silence that was meant to be, a silence that only could bring good news for both of them and Leo felt freer again, not hanging out with his “superstar” friends, with his older brother, or eating at a fancy restaurant with his father and all his father's friends -Oh Leo! _No puedo creer lo mucho que has crecido... ¡Que viejo soy!_ \- I know uncle José, I know.-. Enough was enough, and this show was a way to begin something new. As they entered the little bar, Leo saw something he wasn't used to. His eyebrows rose in surprise, and a lock freed itself from behind his ear.

\- Welcome to Russia, Iglesias. Sounds like home, smells like home, and vodka as at home, she said to him as man passed by them, two shots of vodka in both hands. You need to try their coffee, to die for.

He expected everything, really everything, but not a Russian bar in the middle of this town. A tapas bar? Fine. A French restaurant? Why not. But a Russian bar... Unbelievable.

\- You should see your face, it's really priceless, she said laughing before pulling him; let's have a seat in the corner!

And they sat, near the window glass, next to the huge chest of drawers on which he could see all folkloric Russian patterns -flower here, flowers there, flowers everywhere!-. His eyes ran through the place, admiring every inch of it, and Mila, just in front of him, her elbow on the table speaking about something, maybe the show. And then, he came out from his trans, finally focusing on her sweet words. She chirped like a robin, drinking her coffee with some alcohol in it, speaking about her, about this bar which was her parent's, about the Cold War and all these stuff. She finally asked him what his life looked like, curious but still delicate. He rolled his eyes while sipping some of this orgasmic coffee -she was right: so damn good!-; he talked about the parties, about how bilingual he was, about his brother, about his father, about the ones that always were by his side during parties. Her eyes brightened a bit while he spoke of sparkles, of the music, of the dances and the fun he had. She finally looked ad him, putting her glass away on the table.

\- That's fun to hear, but what about you? What do you like, she asked with merry eyes. Don't tell me you have not a favourite band, or something. Forbidden to say that you like your father or brother's music, it's unfair.

He gave her a crooked smile.

\- What was unfair, it was to say to me that here they had a great coffee without saying it was your parent's bar; he joked before adding: because one, it's fucking true, it's delicious and two you just made me crazy about a coffee. And that's fucking unfair.

\- Right mister perfect, she answered, her nails tapping the wooden table. Now, don't avoid my question.

 

   His scarf around his neck, he chatted with the girl he met a while ago in Almaty, the blonde one, with curled hair and pinkish lips, smelling like a garden of flowers in spring and losing softly her beauty like in one of those poems written by this French author. Music in his ears, he walked all around the city to finally reach his hotel. Sometimes, he missed Kazakhstan so much. No, he missed how famous he was in Kazakhstan, making himself and his family proud of it. Nobody here, they said, we'll see, he answered.

This blonde, this Russian girl, this little bloody grin, eyes appealing for a duel, face to face; she was a pain in the ass, and he already knew it. She occupied his mind for a long while as he texted with the other blonde, the less interesting one, the sweeter the better. How she dared to treat him with such irony? Was she jealous? Who the fuck was she to dare speaking to him like this? Damn, he said while falling on his bed, coming from the bathroom, a towel around his hips, smartphone in hand. Disney's child from Kazakhstan, sounded kind of far to him. Raised on Disney's films, his parents calling him their “little actor”, his haughty airs in front of all the cast when he turned twelve, he never cared about the others, only spoiled child. They always took care of him, bringing him food, every jelly he wanted, every drink he wanted and every desire was fulfilled. The boy became a superstar, Kazakhstan's Joe Jonas -without the singing skills, but with the glossy eyes, and a perfect hair-, loved by all the girls, turning everybody's heads like an magnet, envied by every boy there: he felt like the superstar he deserved to be. But here, it felt... Different. All he had there, he hadn't it. No fangirls, no envy, no celebrity, here he felt like nobody; he felt like _them_ , and the only in the cast that seemed to deserve his attention was named Viktor. And maybe this Japanese model, maybe.

He turned on his back, his phone flashing warning him about a new message, he didn't paid attention to it. The blonde that made him reconsider all his life, all his status seemed to enjoy sticking in his mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translation:  
> que ni se te ocurra: don't you dare  
> mi viejo: my father (literaly: my old)  
> No puedo creer lo mucho que has crecido... ¡Que viejo soy! : I can't believe how you have grown up... I'm so old!
> 
>  
> 
> If you liked it, leave a comment, a kudo and if you want you can find me on [Tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/)


	5. or the embodying

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I began some little real life/pre show life of the little crew. I can't wait to develop more of them, their relationships and show it to you! ^^

 

   Their first day felt like heaven. They had to visit the set, all together. A part of the crew had to travel to Japan to shoot a few scenes in an onsen, in a small Japanese city which seemed cute and warm. They looked at the huge set representing all their places, like in those tv shows they used to watch, every room was done, every accessory put in place, giving life to their character, making them coming true as the dream they were living right now. The d day came, on the top of this visit they had their first time embodying their character, fully, and appropriating their features. For some the job wouldn't be a piece of cake.

 

\- I really have to cut _all_ that hair, she asked touching motherly her hair, it had grown so much since the time her mother cut it.

\- Babicheva's a red head, answered the hair stylist while smiling and looking at her in the mirror. You'll look fabulous with red short hair.

\- I once dyed my hair black, my mother _highly_ disliked that, she answered crossing her legs while looking at the man behind her who caught her by her shoulders.

\- I can assure you she'll love this, plus now you're eighteen right? You can do what you want.

Truth to be said, Mila always wanted to dye her hair in any colour, black seemed to be the more she could do with her mother looking at her with a burning rage in her eyes; behind her mother her sister laughed, and her brother faked praying for her soul: how much she loved these dumbasses. Her eyes wandered at the door through the mirror in front of her, she saw Otabek -now she knew his name, and even got used to this name somehow- stopping and leaning over the door, arms crossed on his torso while making a stoic face. She smiled at him, raising an eyebrow.

\- Afraid of cutting your hair, _Mila_ ; he asked just about to sing her name childishly while looking at her. You know, you won't be bald.

\- Oh, thank you _Majesty_ , she commented while looking at her hair dresser, sighing. Go ahead, I can handle this if _Majesty_ says so.

Letting her hair in hands of the man behind her, she felt powerful. She embraced the character, imagined Babicheva got her haircut not long ago: something new for both of them, and they had to like it, both were beautiful after all. She remarked that Otabek sat next to her, in another chair in front of the glass, taking his phone in hands and scrolling on Instagram, looking at photographs.

\- _Majesty_ 's staying with the common now; she asked with a grin on her face while the man put some product on her long blonde hair, smelling like fruits.

\- The common looks freaked out, he replied without even looking at her, eyes leaning on the screen and the changing photographs on it.

\- Majesty has not other things to do?

\- The common wants the King to leave?

\- Don't feel so confident, Otabek; she added with a red smirk drawn on her face.

 

   Yuri's head rested on JJ's thighs, both listening to music in their dressing room -maybe some Eminem-; their transformation turned out to be only clothing. As they began to feel annoyed, somebody irrupted in the room with a ton of clothes in her hands, hidden by the whole amount of it. Yuri got up, sitting properly and quietly while JJ just looked curiously at this... Stack of fabric. The woman just clapped her hands, and looked at them, from the bottom to the top. Yuri and JJ felt somehow awkward while she began to turn around them, picking some clothes and giving some of them in their arms before pushing them in booths on the other side of the room; without any question they get into it. While Yuri saw what he had to wear, he nearly laughed before becoming serious again “ _This child is crazy_ ” he whispered to himself while putting a tiger printed t-shirt and buttoning his pants. And when he finally came out the booth and saw JJ he couldn't recognize his friend. The man he played had nothing in common with him, while JJ loved flannels and embraced the “casual” lifestyle, Leroy wore leather jackets JJ couldn't bare and sunglasses on his hair, skinny jeans, black boots and nothing seemed to belong to JJ: of course it belonged to Leroy. While he admired his friend, he saw the brunette's face turning slowly into a grin, a half-smile, showing finally his teeth and he heard the hugest laugh of the universe when JJ bent in two, catching his stomach while laughing till he cried. Not cool.

\- Leroy, you can just fuck yourself; he said while sticking his tongue out and turning his back with an offended face as the woman looked at him without getting anything.

\- Oh, Yuri-chan, JJ continued struggling with his laugh to say something. Don't be mad, legging suits you very well, besides. And all these prints are highlighting your green eyes, he tried to articulate while still catching his breath from the laughter.

\- Only scumbags wear sunglasses on their head, he replied looking at him, anger in his emerald eyes, trying to not burst into laughter. And you are one, scumbag.

\- That was actually mean, JJ replied breaking character while looking at him with a smile on his face.

\- As if you were tender with poor Plisetsky, Leroy; he replied raising his eyebrow.

\- Don't be mad George, JJ replied reaching him and putting his hand on his shoulder.

\- If you want, I can just leave you know, whispered the stylist in the back, waiting and loosing patience as they laughed together.

 

   Chris shared his dressing room with Viktor. If he could die, it was the good day to. He had to hide his fanboyish behaviours in front of him, like not talking about how much he loved his roles in all these series, how much he influenced his life choices, how much he looked perfect now with silver hair, and how happy he felt about playing his best-friend in this show. As Viktor sat in the huge chair, making the cushion slipping away from it, he couldn't stop him from laughing a bit; and then Viktor rose his head looking at him, with a graceful smile. Be brave Chris, he ordered himself.

\- I'm a mess sometimes, he commented while catching the cushions laying on the floor.

\- No, you're not, he responded anxiously, waving his hands. I'm way more a mess, I mean I'm always loosing my things, like last time I lost my keys and stayed the evening outside waiting for a... Did I just said that, he asked, knowing perfectly he did.

\- _Da_ , Viktor replied with a broad smile on his face while compressing the cushion against his chest. Next time, call me and don't freeze out outside, Toronto is somewhat cold now; he continued winking at him.

And at this moment, Chris' heart stopped beating, as he nodded back with a livid eye, Viktor laughing a bit louder now.

\- I see you're already frozen, he remarked with a smile; I don't bite you know, don't be impressed or what, after all we have to play buddies so the best to do so is to be friends, right?

God has spoken to Chris, amen.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you liked it, leave a comment, a kudo and if you want you can find me on [Tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/)


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